From Alexandra Craig, 13

The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close and a drowsy silence lay over the large, square houses of Privet Drive...The only person left outside was a teenage boy who was lying flat on his back in a flowerbed outside number four.

The sun was enveloped in silvery clouds as it was slowly setting below the horizon. Darkness would be coming soon, but fifteen-year-old Harry Potter still lay among his aunt Petunia's pansies and daffodils, and occasionally weeds here and there.

"Harry Potter!" came the vociferous voice of Vernon Dusley. Harry looked up and saw the fat face of his uncle looking down at him from his bedroom, spit spewing from his mouth as he yelled at his nephew down below. "Get inside this instant!"

Harry went inside reluctantly, knowing that this closing day of June might be his last day to relax. Opening the door, and stepping inside, he made his way to the Dursley's kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He was shocked to see a tawny owl perched upon the kitchen window. As Harry approached it, thankful that the Dursley's were up in their room, the owl hooted with dignity. Harry saw that a small black envelope had been attached to the owl's claw with untidy gray string.

Curiously, Harry detached the letter and read upon the envelope his name 'HJ Potter'. The writing was unfamiliar to him. What struck him though, was that in the top corner the word URGENT had been labeled as if with a stamp. Brow furrowed, Harry began to rip open the envelope but before he could even take out the parchment inside his head was struck with an all too familiar pain that filled his whole body as though knives were piercing his very skin.

The letter fell to the floor and Harry fell with it. The pain was worse than he could have ever imagined, his head feeling as though he were being split in two. He was gasping, clutching his forehead, wailing in pain, the letter still on the floor, gazing up ominously. Suddenly, it let out a whiff of smoke and in a flash, had dissolved into nothing.

The pain began steadily going away. Gazing at the spot where the letter was earlier, Harry realized that the letter had been from a foe, not a friend, and it had been sent simply to punish him. Standing slowly, his feet feeling irregular, he went up to his room, feeling that the night's surprises were not yet over.